


touché

by orphan_account



Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [7]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Anal Fingering, Angst, Anxiety, Family Issues, Fear, Insecure Timothèe Chalamet, Late at Night, Love, Lube, M/M, Pauline Chalamet (mentioned) - Freeform, Possessive Armie Hammer, Protective Armie Hammer, Sad Timothée Chalamet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Timmy wakes up alone. Armie comes back and calms his fears.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087184
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	touché

Very late one night - or very early in the morning - Timotheé woke to find that he was alone. He lay very still in the oppressive darkness and silence, telling himself over and over that he was fine, he was okay, Armie was coming right back. Ever since they had moved in together, Timotheé found that he could not get any meaningful kind of rest if he tried to sleep alone. The smallest sound could wake him from the lightest doze. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, telling himself once again that he was fine. “ _Tu vas bien. Il n’y a personne ici, mais Armie reviendra bientôt. Tu verras_ …”

Timotheé sighed. He reached into his pocket for his phone and turned on its flashlight. His toenails clicked on the linoleum as he got out of bed and walked across the floor. He took more deep breaths to try to calm his pounding heart. He reached out and slowly lifted the edge of the window curtain. The world outside the apartment was bathed in orange from the sodium street lights. A flash of terror tore through Timotheé when he saw a giant shape pressed against the glass.

“Hey, Timmy. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Armie smiled wanly.

Timotheé mewled softly and pressed his hand over the pounding pulse point in his throat. “ _Armie?_ ” he whispered hoarsely, as if it could be anyone else.

“Yeah, it’s me. I lost my key, can you believe it? I got thirsty and went to the Shell station for a Coke. I’ll get the locks changed tomorrow. Let me in, baby, it’s cold out here.”

Timotheé chuckled in relief. For a second he shook his head, trying to shake the sleep and fear from his brain. He wore no boxers, only a loose pair of washed out Levi’s. When he pressed his palm against the doorknob, his fingers felt the cold. “Come in.” He miscalculated the distance between them, and his leg brushed Armie’s as he came inside. He felt Armie’s hand grip his arm.

He made a low sound, like a soft moan in his throat, as he moved his hand up Timotheé’s shoulder. “Mmm. Timmy.”

Timotheé’s body grew hot at his touch. Armie pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around him, crushing his thin frame to his chest. Timotheé winced as the contact brushed his stitches, newly cleaned and rebandaged. It hurt, but he allowed it, letting his body go slack in Armie’s hold. He tilted his head back as Armie kissed him, his hands clinging to Armie’s shoulders for support.

Armie broke away abruptly, breathing deeply. “Timmy,” he whispered, his breath tickling his ear. “You’re driving me crazy. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep holding back.”

Timotheé slid his fingers into Armie’s hair. He held him close as he traced his lips over Armie’s jaw, barely touching. He could feel him steel himself, his breath hitched, his hands still, his fingernails digging into Timotheé’s skin. A shudder ran through him as he held Timotheé close, his lips pressed against his throat. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Timotheé nodded, his spirits rising. He was so caught up in lust that he almost wept with joy. Armie was right; this was crazy. Armie leaned down to scoop Timotheé up in his arms, his weight a sweet, light pressure.

Timotheé laughed giddily when Armie pinched his shoulders and spun around, dropping him unceremoniously on top of the bed. He covered his mouth to stifle his laughter, like a misbehaving child afraid of getting caught. He felt all of his fear and worry fade away as Armie loomed over him, looped his arm around the back of Timotheé’s neck and drew him close, kissing his throat and his chest.

In one quick move, Armie unzipped Timotheé’s jeans and slid them down his legs. Timotheé shivered and covered himself, feeling somehow shy and brazen at the same time. He lay still as Armie kissed him, while taking off his own shirt, jeans, and briefs.

In the scuffle, Timotheé had dropped his phone, but from the orange glow and the pale moonlight through the window, he could see Armie clearly. The man’s beauty stunned him, even now, and he could scarcely believe that he was here.

“ _Je t’adore_ ,” he murmured, touching his cheek. “ _Et mon Dieu, tu es si beau_!”

Armie groaned and kissed his palm. He turned away from him, looking around the tiny apartment. “This is crazy, Tim. God help me, this is fucking crazy.”

Timotheé knew that it was, but he didn’t care. He reached out with one hand and stroked and pinched Armie’s cock with his fingernails. He licked the tip of his shaft and cupped his balls. Armie thrust into Timotheé’s palm with a rough sob, the movement so jarring and abrupt that Timotheé saw stars. “Dude... _ow_!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry. Turn over, baby.” Armie wrapped his arms around Timotheé and made him roll away from him, slowly and gingerly. He held Timotheé up by the waist and slid his cock between his legs.

“Damn, finally.” Timotheé knelt, eager to be penetrated, but it was Armie’s fingers that found his hole, sliding inside, slick with spit and -

“What is that? Whoa, man. That feels...so fucking good! Armie, I’m sorry if I make a mess, but I think I’m gonna...come soon. Like, any second now.”

“That’s alright, Timmy. I uh, might have gotten a little more than a Coke at the store. I got a little bottle of KY jelly and thought maybe we’d give it a try. I didn’t know exactly how familiar you are with lube, but I figured you’d want to try something a little more...normal.”  


“Oh my God. Are you _still_ giving me a hard time about that thing with the peach? Armie, that was four and a half years ago. Let it go, man.”

Armie laughed and kissed the back of his neck. Timotheé knelt down and pressed his face into the pillow, panting. His hair clung to his scalp, and beads of sweat dripped down his face. He moaned and took Armie’s thrusts, every pressure of his fingers bringing him closer to rapturous release. When he came, he wailed and clung to the headboard. Armie held his hips with bruising force and surged against him with a groaning gasp, saturating Timotheé’s legs and stomach.

Armie held onto Timotheé for a long time. They knelt together, the last tremors of their orgasms still flowing through them. Timotheé moaned and leaned back, resting his head against Armie’s chest. He felt sticky and achy and hot. He felt sated and sleepy. The lube and their combined cum slid and tickled between his thighs.

Armie exhaled harshly, a hot burst of air over Timotheé’s neck and back, and pushed himself upright. Timotheé shifted and turned over onto his side. Armie’s scent covered him. Timotheé moaned softly when Armie tugged him towards him, pulling him close.

“Jesus, I’m an idiot. I should have known better.”

Timotheé caught his hands and kissed them. “Don’t say that. Armie, I wanted you to do this. It’s been a long time coming.”

“So you say. But it wasn’t even a week ago that you were in the ER. I should have waited, just a few more days. Sleeping in the same bed with you night after night, it was only a matter of time before...but dammit, Timmy, now I’ve set back your recovery even more.”

Armie looked around at the disarrayed sheets like he had just woken from a nightmare. “Jeez, Timmy. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you. Did I hurt you?”

“Hun-uh.” Timotheé murmured. Their cum had stained the bed. Even in the dimness Armie could see it, and feel it spread slick on his stomach and thighs. The scent of musk pervaded the air. Timotheé turned over and wrapped his arms around Armie, pulling him down. He held onto him, savoring the warmth of his skin and the weight of his body on top of his.

Armie kissed him open-mouthed, resisting his pull even as his tongue probed deep. He eased out of Timotheé’s grasp and rolled over, rising from the bed. He bent down to grab his shirt and jeans and murmured “I’ll be right back.”

Timotheé watched Armie as he went into the bathroom and turned on the light over the sink. He lay still among the tousled sheets and breathed in the scent of him, of what they had done. He thought back upon all the years of their relationship, all the jokes and laughs, the kisses and conversations. He tried to imagine the rest of his life, or even the year, with this. With Armie.

He thought that maybe he understood Pauline’s fear for him now. How she had laughed and nudged his ribs, joking about how Timotheé had mooned and pined after Armie on the red carpet. He thought he knew why his sister had stopped answering his calls, and never responded to his texts. He remembered the last time he saw her, how she had wept and turned away from him at the hospital in New York, after his overdose. She had realized, then and there, that Timotheé was already lost to life.

Timotheé could not conceive of a life without Armie. He couldn’t blame Pauline for not understanding, for putting as much space between them as she could. She thought of Armie as an interloper and a predator, a leech sucking the life out of her baby brother. She had said those very words to him, at some point, and the memory of it made Timotheé feel sick and angry.

Timotheé hugged the pillow to his chest. Armie’s shadow passed over him as he came back from the bathroom. “Here, wipe yourself with this.” He passed Timotheé a damp washcloth. “I need you to stand up, if you can. I’ll change the sheets.”

Timotheé used the cloth to wash himself the best that he could. He stood up unsteadily on quivering legs. “Armie! You aren’t leaving me, are you?” He clung to his arms, his eyes shimmering with tears.

“No! Of course not.” He brushed his lips to Timotheé’s forehead. He inhaled sharply. He held Timotheé’s cheeks between his palms and frowned down at him. “For the love of God, Timmy, I just made love to you. I love you! _Je t’aime_ ,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Timotheé’s forehead. “I know you have doubts. Christ, I’ve wondered about this myself! But I’m here for you, Timmy. You’re mine now.”

He took Timotheé’s chin and kissed him gently. “Go sit on the toilet or the bean bag while I change the sheets. I know you’re wired, and sleep is probably the last thing you want to do right now, but you need your rest, honey.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> “ _Tu vas bien. Il n’y a personne ici, mais Armie reviendra bientôt. Tu verras_ …”  
> \-----> "You're fine. No one's here, but Armie will come back soon. You'll see..."  
> " _Je t'adore_ , " _Je t'aime_ "  
> \----->"I love you."  
>  _"Et mon Dieu, tu es si beau!"_  
>  \----->"And my God, you are so beautiful!"


End file.
